


and the sun did not hurry

by sweettasteofbitter



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-01
Updated: 2015-11-01
Packaged: 2018-04-29 11:40:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5126186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweettasteofbitter/pseuds/sweettasteofbitter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cassandra/F!Adaar pwp/headcanon-based ficlet</p>
<p>"It is one thing to be privileged enough to have Cassandra in her bed, but it is something different altogether to be able to persuade her, however gentle, to lie down onto her stomach."</p>
            </blockquote>





	and the sun did not hurry

**Author's Note:**

> This is an M-rated ficlet that leaves the main act to the imagination but includes some serious foreplay and post-sex care/cuddles. Heavily centered around one of my headcanons regarding which positions Cassandra would prefer and why.

The sun, sinking steadily behind the sharp crooked teeth of the Frostback mountains, casts long shadows upon the floor, the bed, and the curve of Cassandra's naked behind.

The orange sunset and post-climax glow have worked in a collaborative effort to make her appear like a proper warrior goddess. Draped across the bed as she is, with her cheek resting on her arms, legs still slightly spread, and the endless expanse of damp, battle-weathered skin, the only thing lacking to complete the image is an epic blade of sorts.

Adaar takes no small amount of pride in this sight, as it has taken her considerable time - countable in months - to achieve it.

It is one thing to be privileged enough to have Cassandra in her bed, but it is something different altogether to be able to persuade her, however gentle, to lie down onto her stomach.

Cassandra, who carries her suspicion like an invisible coat around her shoulders no matter the circumstances, prefers her physical, carnal loving face-to-face. It is, undeniably, a question of trust. Facing each other, Cassandra can predict what Adaar will do and watch the pleasure unfold between the two of them for as long as she can keep her eyes open. Not only does a gaze shared between lovers - or the observation of a lip bitten, a chest heaved - exhibit a bond of honesty; for Cassandra there is a sense of safety in it as well, and so she finds it much, much harder to accept Adaar's wandering hands and mouth when she has been coaxed onto the bed with her back open and defenseless.

* * *

 

It was this presence of vulnerability that made Cassandra freeze, made her breath hitch in her throat when Adaar bent over her, stroking her arms, kissing in between her shoulder blades. It was a mere fraction of a moment where Cassandra's whole being stood ready to fight, and even though it was only the smallest of jitters, Adaar had felt it. Without stopping her hands (fingers gentle but thumbs firm) or her lips (against Cassandra neck, and upwards, _they can always go down later, there is time, there is time_ ) she spoke, lips persuasive and warm against the shell of Cassandra's ear.

_"Do you trust me, Cassandra?"_

The reply was a sigh, emphasizing Cassandra was both hesitant and desperate to submit.

Adaar's hands went lower, up and down where Cassandra's ribs connected to her waist. There was another intake of breath, less apprehensive this time, and Adaar could pinpoint the moment where the scale tipped, where Cassandra decided to let go, decided to trust.

_"Yes."_ And then, her voice so wonderfully low, _"I want this."_

Adaar smiled when Cassandra relaxed and finally welcomed her touch, and she showed how grateful she was by kissing each and every scar encountered on her way down and uttering heartfelt terms of endearment and admiration.

The only thing she regretted was that she could not watch Cassandra's face, and when she glanced up, she could see that Cassandra had clutched the pillow tight.

Lower and lower she went still, her thumbs finding knots in muscle pulled taut. Her hands settled firmly on Cassandra's hips while she kissed the dimples in her lower back. She was amazed once again how unexpectedly soft Cassandra's body was, patches of truly rough skin only to be found around the joints of her elbows and knees, and the white lines where blades and claws had left their puckered marks.

There was a scar with a story on the inside of Cassandra's thigh, and Adaar traced it with her fingertips as she had done countless times before, but this time the different angle and lighting made the scar appear newer than it was, as though it hadn't marked her skin decades ago. At the smallest hint of contact, Cassandra made a noise that would've been much louder if it hadn't been muffled by the pillow, and her legs parted further.

Adaar bent as well as she could without hurting Cassandra with her blasted horns and pressed a kiss to the scar, allowing herself to rest against Cassandra's thigh.

(And oh, she could smell her here, she definitely could, the scent of her incredibly sweet and heady.)

Adaar sat up again, thumbs pressing, fingers no longer aimless, now, in the crook where Cassandra's leg joined her abdomen. She found she wanted to give back what she had taken, earlier on, when the sun had been walking higher in the sky.

Despite her best efforts, she couldn't talk without swallowing first, and even then her voice was shaking.

_"Lift your hips a little."_

* * *

 

With infinite gentleness, Adaar grabs the nearest sheet and wipes the fine sheen of sweat off Cassandra's back.

Every part she cleans, she kisses. There are subtle marks made by Adaar's teeth, marks which she hopes Cassandra doesn't notice. Truly, she can't help that her incisors are sharper than humans ones, and even the smallest hint of teeth is enough to leave dents in soft, soft skin. Harder bites would cause skin to break, and she figures that perhaps Cassandra, of all people, would bleed for her, but this is the bedroom, not the battlefield.

When Adaar reaches the head of the bed, Cassandra looks up at her and shares one of her rare fond, lazy smiles.

Cassandra's movements are labored as she rolls onto her back. The shadows, growing longer and longer, create diamond patterns on her shoulders, her breasts, the curve of her hip. Adaar grins when she sees the odd lines the sheets have formed against Cassandra's belly, and she thinks of following those lines again, up or down, as a map to their lovemaking…but no, not today, she is too tired.

Instead, she collapses next to Cassandra and kisses her mouth. Cassandra hums against her lips, sated and happy.

"Now that wasn't so bad was it?" Adaar grins, curling into Cassandra's side as well as she can with her large body.

Cassandra makes an attempt at grumbling, but she is too languid, her mood too elated to make anything remotely close to a negative sound. Adaar notices Cassandra's hair sticking to her temple. (They are in dire need of a bath. Both of them. Not together though, not this time, that would most likely be disastrous and counter-productive.)

"It was…better than I expected," Cassandra says, and slings an arm around Adaar's waist. Adaar has the feeling it is there to protect her rather than to trap her.

"Hmm. I'm glad."


End file.
